


Larger Than Life

by OverexcitedDragon



Category: Godzilla (2014), Godzilla - All Media Types
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Guys I don't fckn know what to tag this I dont usually write these fics so it's very confusing uhhhh, Other, POV Second Person, Sex with Sentient Animals, Sex with a God or like a really intelligent creature that thinks you look kinda funny, TONGUE???, Teratophilia, gender ambiguous reader, idk man i give up, non sexual sexual fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 11:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19228720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverexcitedDragon/pseuds/OverexcitedDragon
Summary: You fool yourself into believing you share secrets with Him, and it feels wonderful.





	Larger Than Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is word-by-word a sexual fantasy of my own that I discovered YESTERDAY after 3 days of watching Godzilla and King Kong movies. I've never had fantasies that didn't directly involve sex in some way so this is VERY WEIRD so uuhhhh have fun

It rains and it pours and He stands there, massive, imposing, looking up at the cloudy skies as if the water falling from them was like summer breeze.

Does He feel the water droplets touch his eyes? Does He blink the salt away when they do?

Do the elements of nature that aren’t disastrous bring forth any reaction at all? Does He feel the breeze? Does He appreciate the snow?

Is He too big, too great, too large-than-life for any of this?

A King.

A God.

You wonder if He can even notice your presence, if He would just step on you like one steps on an anthill-- not out anger, but mere indifference. But you soon realize that indifference is still too great an emotion for what He feels for your entire race.

The rain beats down on your hair and body with violence, yet you barely feel it. Standing here, on top of a near wrecked building, next to a God that doesn’t know death, doesn’t know fear, doesn’t know love like you do… you taste the blood in your lower lip before you realize you were biting down on it.

It’s too much.

And yet it’s exhilarating.

Would He notice you?

You cup your hands around your lips and scream. You don’t scream words, just desperately make yourself known.

Screaming at the sky like a lunatic, hoping God will pay mind to you.

You go on for what feels like hours, but you know it must’ve been short, breathless minutes. To Him, an amount of time too small to even consider. You don’t even know what you’re doing, why you’re doing it. Is this a desperate call for attention? After wrecking your world and your life, He plans on taking his massive and unknowingly murderous steps back into the ocean and falling asleep, or hunting, or mating; anything, really, that doesn’t involve remembering or understanding what He did to you, to your life, to your city.

It’s painfully unfair, and yet you know that unfairness is too small, too human of a word for Him.

You’re not angry or resentful, He stepped on an ant hill and it happened to be your home. It’s not His fault, it’s not anyone’s fault, really…

But you need to be known, you  _ have  _ to be seen. You feel like allowing him to leave just like that will kill you, tear your insides and leave you empty.

_ Please _ , your mind begs, throat hoarse from screaming and yet still going, still rocking your entire body with loud and tearful screeches.  _ Please look at me, please _ …

His head turns.

It’s too dark to see His eyes, but you  _ feel  _ them. Silencing you with a choking grip you can feel through your entire body. His eyes pierce through your skin, leave you bare and dry and powerless under the stare of a God that has no time to play with ants, but in His idleness and boredom decided to spare a glance at a struggling insect flailing by his feet.

You heave, too emotional, too shocked, too  _ everything _ to respond with anything but letting your head hang, maintaining a meaningless eye contact with the corner of your eyes.

But it feels  _ good _ .

He looked. He noticed you, your struggle, your screaming, your desperate tantrums.

You’re already more important to Him than the rest of the population. He  _ looked at you _ .

But before you can process the joy, the satisfaction, He leans in.

And leans, and leans, and your feet are stuck to the ground, and your limbs are frozen in fear, and your lungs don’t work any more than your hiccuping heart--

His face stops in front of you, inches from the edge of the building, staring you down like you’re nothing,  _ less than nothing _ , a speck of dust that He might or might not want to wipe away from the furniture. It’s horrifying, and yet…

And yet…

His eyes stare into your soul like no human ever could. Menacing and yet uninterested, they have a glint of amusement to them that reminds you of your young self, holding a magnifying glass under the bright sun outside your home in a desperate attempt to ward off boredom.

You breathe in for the first time in what feels like an eternity, but it catches in your throat as He  _ breathes out _ . It’s powerful and terrifying, a hurricane of wet, hot air knocks you on your ass. You grasp the concrete under your fingernails for a purchase that isn’t there, and you watch Him, watch His eyes with horror and an exhilaration that bubbles in your throat like a choked scream of… what, joy?

You’re not sure, you just know it feels good. His eyes have a glint to them, and He doesn’t blink the entire time they take in your soaked, horrified form, bunched up on the ground like a crumpled cigarette butt.

You feel weak, powerless in a way that nothing has ever made you, the rain glues hair to your forehead and sticks torn clothes to your heaving form, but your entire body feels hot,  _ burning _ as this immense God, this all powerful  _ King  _ that has killed millions without even  _ noticing _ … just…  _ watches  _ you.

The noise of the rain beating down masks the movements you should have noticed, (how didn’t you notice…? It’s too big, too massive, too  _ much _ and it’s stupid, and you’re stupid for doing this but it feels so… so…) and before you realize, fingers the size of buses scoop you up, carefully, but not enough. Your head hangs from the side and you can see the building you were standing on getting small… smaller… your breath comes in and out in a panic, your body is shaking, but the speed you’re rising is too great for you to scream with strained lungs.

_ I’m going to die, I’m going to _

It stops.

The hand, and the rain as well.

When you look up, you see Him. Towering over you, His head is tilted down to look at the little creature in his hand, curious, interested, like He never would’ve in any human.

_ Bullshit _ , you scoff to yourself,  _ I was lucky. If anyone else had been on top of that building, that would’ve been them… _

But they weren’t. You were, and there’s a feeling deep in your gut, something akin to pride.

A waterdrop runs through the leathery skin on His face, down his cheeks, onto his lips. It drops, and it tastes like saltwater.

It’s quiet. He’s still looking at you, not killing you, not playing with you, not eating you. He’s just… looking. It takes long moments until your breathing calms, you pull your hair back and away from your face, you might not dare to look away from His piercing eyes, but you dare to feel the skin under your fingers.

It’s leathery, but softer than you anticipated, it’s warm, so so impossibly warm it nearly burns your already hot skin, and you absentmindedly (but not really, not really at all) run your fingers through the divots in the skin, feeling the even softer skin in between the tougher plates. You risk a look downwards, realizing you can fit your entire foot in some of them.

And you feel small.

So small, so weak, so powerless, so…

You squeeze your legs together with a deep breath. Looking back up, He’s still staring at you, and once again, a breath catches in your throat…

But this time is different.

It feels… good, still, yes, but…

Your fingers close into shaky fists, and you realize the fear had morphed into something else, something…  _ better _ , greater, larger-than-life.

Stupid, silly, absurd. Yet, you lay down on His palm, feeling the heat radiating from it all across your body. You breathe in, breathe out, look into His eyes.

He looks. He doesn’t move, doesn’t do anything but look, it’s like He’s trying to understand, trying to  _ see _ . You wonder if you should give Him something to see, something mortal, something human, something  _ yours _ .

(He doesn’t know, He wouldn’t notice. If one held an ant in their hand, would they know if it was scared? Angry?  _ Aroused _ ? But you don’t care. You might die today anyways. You don’t care.)

You use the excuse of your clothes being wet and uncomfortable to slowly slide them off your body. The excuse is your own, no one needs to hear it, but you aren’t  _ there _ yet, your mind is still playing with the possibilities, and you need the logic, the rational thoughts… so you take your shirt off, slowly, back arching from the hand that heats up your entire body to pull it off. It’s embarrassing and you don’t even know why, laying there shirtless in front of a God, under His piercing gaze.

He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t have to.

You undo the button and zipper from your jeans, it’s a struggle and they’re practically glued to your skin. You think it’s your imagination when you see a hint of entertainment in His eyes as your legs flail around to kick the wet shoes and pants from your body.

Your fingers stop on the hem of your underwear, and the ridiculousness of it all hits you like a bullet when you realize your skin is nearly dry from the heat of His hand, but you can feel wetness between your legs.

_ This is absurd _ .

Your fingers freeze there, legs closed in shame, chest heaving in arousal and embarrassment, your mind running a thousand miles an hour.

He breathes out once again, and another hurricane of hot wet hair hits your near naked body and drags out a moan from your chapped lips, back arching and limbs twitching in the most absurd and yet natural response one could have. Your lips fall open and you lick them as your lungs burn with every breath.

You look at Him, He looks at you.

He’s nothing but passing curiosity, nothing but feelings too large, too massive for humans to comprehend, and it somehow makes it harder to stop your fingers from reaching between your legs.

You push down your underwear, kick it away with shaky legs, and slowly spread your legs, shaky knees half bent and toes curling at the mere  _ thought _ , but the  _ action _ itself…? Oh, oh that’s so much better.

You feel the cold air hitting your nipples and you shiver, you feel the heat underneath your body radiating to your wet cunt and you tremble…

You feel His eyes on you. No rain, no clothes, no building, He’s looking at you,  _ you _ , you’re  _ nobody _ and yet His eyes are taking in every miniscule feature of your body.

It’s not sexual for Him, He’s too great for any of this, He doesn’t even  _ see  _ you, He just  _ looks _ because He’s bored, because His job is over. He only  _ looks _ .

It drives you mad with pleasure.

You feel your clit twitching, your haven’t touched yourself and it’s nearly painful.

But you don’t want to touch yourself. You want the impossible, you want Him to touch you, to  _ know _ , you want Him to know how mad He’s driven you, how much pleasure you feel from that alone, from standing naked under His piercing gaze.

You can’t tell Him, He wouldn’t understand, there’s no way and it nearly brings you to tears.

_ Frustrated _ .

Your arms reach up, fingers grabbing at air and eyes looking into His own. You’re so small, so insignificant, but just this  _ once _ ,  _ please, please, see me _ …

He blinks. It’s a mechanical and animal action, there’s nothing more to it, but you lie to yourself anyways.

You can barely keep your legs spread open, there’s no friction and it  _ hurts _ that you can’t touch yourself ( _ not yet, not yet, please _ ), your arms hurt from reaching up, muscles twitching in the strain of it.

And then He breathes out once again.

It’s a wind so powerful it knocks your arms against his hot skin, but you can’t notice the pain, it’s small, insignificant, you don’t care if you might’ve broken a bone, you don’t care… the feeling of the hot air hitting your cunt with such power makes you scream in pleasure. Your entire body freezes, your eyes shoot open and your mouth feels dry.

It’s not an orgasm yet but by  _ god _ it was so close, so close… you look up again, body trembling, you plead to Him words He can’t understand, you look into His eyes with feelings He has no concept of, tears trailing from your eyes and soaking your ears and hair. It’s frustrating, but it’s more powerful than anything any human could’ve given you, it’s weakening, but it makes you feel more important than any other human alive or dead.

The rain still beats down all around you but you can’t hear it through the heartbeat frantically drumming in your ears.

You reach down, shaky fingers finally touching your cunt only to find it soaked, hot, and it  _ hurts _ so much but the  _ relief _ you feel when you touch yourself brings out a drawled out moan that you hope, uselessly, He hears.

Fingers circle your twitching clit while others pull and twist at your nipples. The hands are your own but you wish to god they weren’t, you wish so hard you can feel the leather skin on them, you wish so hard that when you slip fingers inside your wet cunt you can swear they feel much, much bigger and much, much harder.

But it’s not enough, it’s not  _ nearly enough _ , you feel the tears coming back and it’s frustrating, it’s  _ so, so frustrating _ .

You plead again, but it’s in your mind this time, you fantasize about the creature holding you with nothing but curiosity as if it could hold you tightly, as if it could slide inside you and split you open in the most wonderful ways.

Your moans become erratic and desperate, and it feels like you’re going to  _ die _ .

You feel, though, that it would be a fine way to die.

His head moves down, closer, and you feel relieved to be closer, close enough to touch Him, to  _ really _ touch His face, hold it close. But He stops before then, and it’s painful, but you accept it--

He opens his mouth.

For a second your brain panics.  _ He’s gonna eat me _ , you think, desperate, your hands stop their tiresome work and hold onto the divots in His skin.

You hold for purchase, but not that hard. You’ve accepted the situation in a sense you never even knew you could.

It feels right, it feels--

But He doesn’t, He doesn’t hold you between His teeth or swallow you down like a mediocre snack. Instead, his tongue shoots out, long and dark and the size of a house. It’s terrifying, it’s exciting, it’s everything you never thought you’d want, but before you can even think of what you’d want with it, you feel it on you. It’s wet and heavy and it presses your legs down, spreading them painfully, but the pain is  _ nothing _ when you can feel it sliding against your cunt.

It’s slow, it’s deliberate, you don’t know why it’s happening but it’s not your place to question it, so you just lay there and you feel it. You feel the hot and hard skin underneath you, you feel the long, wet, burning tongue slowly and endlessly sliding across your entire body, and the texture might’ve been painful in another life, but right now it feels heavenly. You nearly drown in the spit but you drink it in, your arms wrap around it as best as they can, not grabbing to hold but instead feeling the immensity of the tongue with open, shaky palms. It’s infinite, it feels eternal, it keeps on coming and you can feel the lips of your pussy spreading open with the movement, and the burning pleasure of your clit being enveloped by the soft, wet, hot texture of the tongue.

It pulls ever so gently on your most sensitive skin, presses down on every inch of your body. You can’t breathe but it doesn’t matter, never did, all that matters is this and you might feel yourself passing out, might feel your consciousness drifting out of reach, but nothing has ever felt so right.

The orgasm is anything but sudden. You could feel and see it coming, pressing down on you just like the tongue that slides against your entire body, until it broke you, broke out of you, shook every cell in your body, curled your toes until they cramped, pulled your head back, rolled back your eyes, arched your body, forcibly pulled a choked, drowned scream from deep within your throat.

It’s overwhelming like nothing has ever been, and it continues until He’s done, until that one stripe He licked across your entire self is done. Your glazed over eyes can see His mouth closing, can see His head turning to see you once more, can see the glint in His eyes, can see He knows nothing, never will…

But it doesn’t matter.

You utter loving words to a God that’s too great to understand what they mean. Your entire body is covered in a spit that might kill you in a year or so, your stomach is nearly bulging with it, and your cunt is red, aching, oversensitive with the strength of a single lick from Him. Why He did it doesn’t matter, it’s your secret to keep that it even happened.

Not just that, but everything. Looking at you, holding you gently, allowing you to touch yourself and touch his skin, licking you like tasting a treat. You fool yourself into believing you share secrets with Him, and it feels wonderful.

You notice He’s much closer than before, and before your consciousness drifts off completely, you reach out a hand and touch his nose, gently, softly, like the touch itself is yet another secret to keep.


End file.
